


Your God is A Dick

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Collars, Dubious Consent, Fingering, Kink Meme, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, SPN Kink Meme, Sex Toys, Supernatural Kink Meme, dub con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:57:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2770466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SPN Kink Meme<br/>Small towns are full of secrets. Dean, on a unrelated hunt, is captured by the locals and offered up to their pagan god as a sacrifice. Focus on how they prepare him for the ritual. Cleaning, shaving, chaining him down using a collar and cuffs. The god takes a liking to Dean and decides to keep him.<br/>Title: Picky Gods (EDIT: Your God is A Dick)<br/>Pairing(s): Dean/OMC, Dean/pagan god,<br/>Full List of Kinks: sex toys, shaving, bondage, collar,</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your God is A Dick

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, just so you know, I do NOT have a sex toy fascination (ok maybe a little).  
> The reason why there is a plethora of dildos throughout my piece i because the roman deity I chose is Mutunus Tutunus (Or Penis McPenis as I like to call him) who is a Roman god who is more often than not, not represented by a marble statue of himself. Rather, literally, he is represented by a dick.  
> His brother is a guy with an enlarged penis, but this guy is literally represented by dicks. He's the god of phallic marriage, and I got all my info from wikipedia and random sources, so if i get marriage rites like conferratio wrong, it's because websites have tended to be vague and some are like you tie a knot, others are like it's a kiss, others are like it's a ring, one said they share a cake, and I'm like ???. I can't ind many other sources about Mutunus other than wikipedia, so again if something is inaccurate it's literally because my main source of info is wikipedia.

A house of 42 virgins was a dumb concept to begin with. The Islamic mythology had nothing to do with Roman mythology, but even so Dean wanted to blame the Islamic bible for cultivating this belief that got him in this mess to begin with. He guesses they changed it from 72 virgins because hiring that many strippers was a little much even for a cult.

On the edge of town, young, good looking single men and women were going missing after attending this underground, cult-like church funded strip club (never before would Dean have associated these word with each other until he saw it for himself) that had sprung up sometime three years ago. As Sam went to investigate the families of the last three victims, Dean had unintentionally chatted up the head priestess of The 42 Virgins.

He probably should have known something was fishy when entered the strip club and the main stage was adorned with a fucking huge bronze dildo podium, styled like the winning 1st 2nd and 3rd winner’s podium, climbing up about 5 steps, each step with its own unique and terrifying to behold polished to pristine perfection phallus, steadily increasing height as they approached the top. The step usually reserved for '1st place' was crowned with one massively long and thick 10 incher, if you measured from tip of the crown to the bottom of the flared base, complete with graphic veins and balls, wreathed in decorative gold leaf as dripping come. Thoroughly freaked out, Dean backed up into the head priestess' husband and was promptly knocked out cold by a bust statue the guy had taken from the entrance.

Waking groggily from an uneasy slumber, the first thing Dean observed that he was fucking freezing. He was shackled to an angled wooden table butt naked. Testing the restraints on both his feet and his legs, Dean sagged after concluding there was no give. These fuckers were earning enough from their next door strip club to afford quality cuffs it seemed. To his left was a table of an assortment of unpleasant looking pointy, sharp, heavy, burny, and hurty things that Dean didn't really want to think about. Otherwise the room was relatively bare, with a straw strewn floor. Dean couldn't see any visible doors or windows, so either the exit was behind him, or above him. The sound of a bolt being slid back and locks being unlocked revealed that there was a door behind him out of the range for his vision.  
  
"Ahhh, Dean, looks like you're lucky sacrifice number two! That's the lucky number this month you know, maybe Mutunus Tutunus will pick you for his tribute!"  
  
A gravelly voice that most definitely did _not_ belong to a hot young priestess echoed from behind. A forty something year old bastard walked into Dean's line of sight carrying with him an old carved bowl of water, several towels and a sponge. The husband of the head priestess.   
  
"Let me out of here you psycho freak, and maybe I won't burn down your shitty church and your freaky ass club!" Dean snarled, shaking the manacles for emphasis.  
  
"But if we did that, who would we sacrifice to our great god? He only likes the best and attractive virgins after all"  
  
And at that, Dean let out a derisive laugh.

"Well you're several years too late for that gramps. You should've pulled this back when I was 14 if you wanted a virgin. I'm a skilled and experienced player."  
  
At the dark chuckle, Dean's bravado was stifled slightly.

  
"Not completely true, you have in fact, never been with another man before have you?"  
  
"You sick fuck. Let me out- ah!" Dean's cry was cut off as a soft sponge soaked in cold water and wildflower scented soap foam was pressed lightly under his balls  
  
"F-f-Fuck that's cold! P-pervert!"  
  
The priest chuckled as he dipped the sponge lightly over dean's hole, causing Dean to shudder, remembering the man's earlier comment about his supposed virginity.  
  
"You're a very lucky man Dean, tonight we offer the most beautiful of virgins at our disposal to our god Mutunus Tutunus"  
  
At the priest's beckoning, four men entered the room from behind Dean, and brought with them a shrine sporting a fat, black, cock.  
  
"W-what? Your god's a f-fucking dick?"  
  
"Not quite Dean" The priest continued sponging up from Dean's clenched hole and his balls, re-wetting the sponge and slowly moving up Dean's torso, taking extra care in the dip where his hip bone was, the creases where his thighs met his torso, and tracing over his muscles, the sponge trailing soft bubbles.  
  
"Our god has a physical form resembling a man, but he prefers to be worshiped in his icon, an erect phallus rising up to the sky. He is the god of phallic marriage you see, and with gay marriage becoming more accepted in this land of America, he has requested that we offer him male sacrifices"  
  
"Y-you sick fucks are worshiping a god of _dicks_?" Dean stuttered preposterously, mumbling off as the sponge was brought under his jaw, dribbling frothy bubbles down on his collar bone, the smell of wild lavender cloy and clogging his senses.

"Phallic marriage. You'll be the last event! It is our custom, that before the virgin brides, or in this case grooms, sleep with their husbands on the night of their marriage, that they must straddle the sacred phallus of Mutunus Tutunus, to ready themselves for intercourse, and relieve themselves of the burden of virginity."

"That's some seriously messed up shit" Dean deadpanned through gritted teeth, as the soapy bubbles were all but gone at the end of the priest's little speech, having finished lathering and rinsing Dean's limbs and face, shivering in the cold.

"That's your opinion, but our god shall grace us this evening, and he will have his way with you after you straddle the Phallus of Joining"

‘ _Never in a million fucking years’_ Dean wanted to say, but had a bucket of water dumped over his head, leaving him spluttering a string of curses.

Hands gripped at his damp hair, rubbing firm tight circles into it, creating more bubbles popping thick wild lavender scents that burned Dean's nostrils. The fingers combed through the foamy mess on his scalp, working out any knots, and a fresh bucket of cold water rained down from somewhere to Dean's right.

"Fu-fuck you ..."

Dean found it hard to choke out insults past the choking scent of lavender burning down his nostrils and irritating his throat.

The priest made a noise of approval at Dean's newly cleaned state and moved to the table on the left again. ‘ _Please Sam, hurry up and figure out I'm missing, I really don't want to experience the rituals worshiping this kinky prick god any time soon, you can burst in and interrupt any minute now!’_ Dean prayed.

The priest was sorting through the blades on the table, before finally picking up an oriental dagger with a wicked curve that looked scary, but couldn't be very practical. He crouched between Dean's legs. Dean held his breath as the blade rested against his dick, not daring to breathe.

_Snick!_

The blade glided from Dean's balls to his outer hip in one fluid motion, shaving off a clean line of muted brownish gold hair. The action continued for several minutes, Dean breathed minimally, only taking shallow breaths when he needed to, and holding them for as long as he possibly could as to not cause any ‘accidents’. The swift sensation of blade crossing his pelvis without leaving any pain was contrasting with Dean's time in Hell with Alastair. Once his pubic region was hairless and given fucking lotion of all things to prevent skin irritations, the priest's eyes roamed up over Dean's chest, closely examining the area near and between Dean's nipples especially. For this first time in his life Dean thanked god for giving him the baby smooth hairless chest of a twelve year old boy, because it was traumatizing enough having that dagger so close to his fucking dick.

In his relief however, Dean missed one of the four handlers of the dick shrine grabbing a syringe from his pocket, Dean felt a prick as it was plunged into his neck, and then he lost the feeling in his arms and legs as the paralytic agent took hold.

"F-f-fu..." Dean's jaw locked up.

"Isn't this just perfect Dean? You're all nice and clean and presentable for Mutunus. Well we'd have performed an enema a well, to further clean you internally, but last time that happened Mutunus was enraged and punished our members for three months with a horrible case of genital warts, something about enemas potentially ruining their virginity, so I'm afraid I must skip the internal cleaning and get right to the bondage!'

The priest procured a set of silvery cuffs, made of what Dean expected to be fine white gold plated at the very least, engraved with pictures of lavender flowers arranged in phallic flower arrangements. He unhooked Dean's stiff arms from the table and brought them together, securing them, he did the same to his legs, only there was a short silver chain hanging between the two cuffs. A tight white gold collar with a mirrored pendant set with a single drop of ruby was fastened on his throat, catching with every breath he took.

"Fire of Vesta, a Roman Virginity goddess" The priest explained.

 _As if I fucking asked or even wanted to know_. Dean snarled back mentally, his jaw still paralyzed.

His cuffs and collar had silver chains attached, and he was arranged from the table into a kneeling position before the phallic shrine, his collar suspended by four chains held by the four worshipers, so that if he attempted to escape of attack on of the handlers, the other three would reel him back. The priest stepped in front of him, hands aloft and began to loudly pray.

"Our great Mutunus Tutunus, father of us all, bringer of happy marriage, bless this child, to be unified in phallic marriage this night, bless him to be worthy for yourself to behold, and we shall offer him to you tonight, Amen."

The four handlers muttered a following ’Amen,’ as they hauled Dean to his feet, who realised his motor functions were returning to him again, if a bit stiff and awkward.

"Earlier you bozos said I was the second sacrifice, why would a god of marriage have more than one partner? How many of us are there?"

Seriously, if Sam could choose any moment to show up, now would be excellent, right after he got the info on how many of their victims were still kicking.

"Oh but of course _mon frère_! A god deserves only the very best don't you agree? Mutunus is very specific to his chosen partners, but we usually are able to please him. In the event no one groom or bride is worthy of his attention, Mutunus will pick multiple partners. Thus we must always prepare multiple sacrifices. This year we have provided him with five potential partners, two husbands and three wives. However we have high hopes for you!"

 _Lucky me_. Dean internally scowled.

"What happens to the ones your douche of a god doesn't pick?"

"He devours them and cuts off their genitals for his necklace."

Now _that_ Dean did not want to know. It made him pale and want to cover his crotch in solidarity of all the former sacrifices. He could only pray that if Sam didn't fucking show up right the fuck now he'd at least be spared the fate of becoming part of a phallic neck ornament.

"Then my wife and I, the head priests, bathe in the blood of the rejected, to ensure blessings for the church of attractive mates, happy families and attractive children"

The priest sprayed some scented oil over Dean, and stepped back and nodded, satisfied with the way it emphasized all his assets and caused them to gleam with a surreal, statue like perfection. His four handlers rose, dragging Dean up with them, and feeling started coming back to Dean's limbs and they found they could move again. The paralytic agent must have been diluted or not very strong. They started to turn him to face the door, before the priest stopped them.

'Ah, almost forgot, we don't want you ruining the ceremony with unsavoury comments, so I hope you understand.'

There was a golden mask that covered the lower half of the wearer's face, nose down to bottom of the jaw. The exterior was a smooth plane of gently sloping yellow gold decorated in polished pearls into a skeleton grin and a small indention on top of the nose for him to breathe, while the interior was tarnished silver, probably from prior users Dean grimaced, and had a ring gag fixed into it. The priest held the mask to Dean's face and Dean instantly shut his teeth together with a click, knowing what would happen next. It's the same dance, but hell if Dean wasn't going to put up a fight even if it was pointless. The priest pinched Dean's nose, waiting for him to use up his air. Dean finally gasped and a finger instantly slipped under his upper teeth, and Dean bit down. The priest grunted at the pain, but he slipped the ring gag feature between Dean’s mouth and then pulled the digit free. The mask was secured on Dean's face.

The priest and Dean's four handlers lead him through the door in some revered procession. Once the corridor widened into the side entrance to the main room, the floor was littered in kneeling people in embroidered grey hoods with their faces fixed on him, mouths open in wonder. Freaking Pagan worshipers with their freaky cult congregations, and freaky sex rituals, and freaky god of phallic marriage, where the fuck was Sam?

Dean was led next to whom he assumed was the first sacrifice, and was forced to kneel next to the guy, who's get up was fire opal studded yellow gold. His mask in a permanent tiger's snarl. As promised, the last three females soon joined them in the line of unlucky Pagan bachelors and bachelorettes. The women were decorated in a more nature theme, a line of bluebell, iris and lotus respectively. Jeeze, where do Pagan cultists get the cash for this sort of kinky stuff? You'd think a hunter would've checked out suspicious expensive investments like this with all the custom work these guys pull of yearly. Once the sacrifices were all present, they were led up to the main stage with the phallic crowned podium.

The head priest and head priestess climbed up with them, and led the prayer.

"We call on Mutunus Tutunus to seek and accept his partner, husband or wife, from our humble sacrifices. The favoured son will be presented first."

Oh hell no. No way in hell were they expecting Dean to just let them sit him on one of those self fucking dicks to 'ready' himself for this sonuvabitch god. However, his handlers had other ideas, and Dean decided he would rather choke. Letting them drag him by his chained collar, cutting off his air as he struggled to keep as much distance from that trophy stand of pricks and him as possible. Damn unconsciousness! Damn air! He didn't need it!

Finally the four handlers grabbed his struggling arms and legs, an appendage each. They twisted him around so his swaying junk was for all to see, which caused Dean to blush being presented like this on a fucking stage. The two holding his legs up folded them to his chest, exposing his hole to the crowd too, before they reverently started lowering him onto the dildo at the top of the podium.

 _Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck._ The cold bronze was pressed threateningly against his hole which refused entry, and Dean whimpered at his helplessness as his handlers lowered him. The breach was shocking to say the least, cold metal suddenly popping past the ring of unprepared muscle, The fucking thing burned as it buried itself deeper, the handlers were careful as to not go too fast and let Dean become vaguely accustomed to each inch, causing him to cry in shame at the laser intense focus everyone in the sick perverted audience had on the metal cock piercing his fucking ass. It fucking hurt, it fucking hurt and Dean wanted to cry in a foetal position in a dark corner in shame. It took fucking forever for the handlers to fully impale Dean on the podium. Dean was stunned at the sheer _burn_ going through his channel at the thick girth of it. His legs flopped uselessly from the shock as the handlers relinquished their grip on his limbs. The chains they had used were looped around him, tying his arms and legs to the podium.

Dean retreated into his own mind, escaping from the humiliation and constant burning ache in his ass. He tried to think of Sammy, he tried to think of his dad saying 'I'm proud of you son' as he nailed every target his Dad threw at him in a makeshift clay pigeon shooting he hand Bobby had devised from the salvage yard. He was vaguely aware of the procession finishing, Iris and Bluebell sat squirming on their dicks either side of him, tiger was after Iris and lotus was after bluebell. Tiger was also crying in wracking sobs, Dean couldn't blame him. The prayer went over Dean's semi-conscious head, he didn't dare squirm on his monster of a dildo, lest he somehow spear himself further, or worse yet, cause himself pleasure from this nightmare.

The prayer finished and the worshipers lowered their heads, grovelling to the floor as there was a flash of fire in front of them, burning Dean's retinas. He blinked, clearing his vision from spots, thinking wistfully of Sam.

A man had appeared, he was built like … well like a Roman god. He looked to be in his early thirties, or maybe late twenties. His black hair blew in some sort of invisible wind, his skin bronzed and oiled to perfection, and his only attire was a fucking sash draping over his shoulders, a necklace of shrivelled dicks and cunts that Dean tried not to look too closely at, and a leather belt, framing his displayed junk swinging.

"Well, well, look at who we have here."

No one dared lift their eyes from the floor, aside from the sacrifices. Mutunus paced up and down the line of sacrifices before stopping in front of Dean.

"So you're the favoured son this year? You have chosen well my brethren." the low, dark voice sounded like the purr of a black panther relishing a piece of meat.

Blue eyes fixed themselves up to Dean's glazed green ones, still lost in their internal thoughts.

"You would do well to prepare for me favoured son, lest our union, a phallic joining, be that much more unpleasant for you."

No response forthcoming, the god frowned and placed a finger under Dean's jaw, tilting him up, as he did so, Dean gasped at the unnatural urge. The fucker's hands had some sort of aphrodisiac spell or some shit on them. Dean was pulled from the past, and he wanted to feel good. Dear god did he want to feel good. The burn in his ass ignored, he began fucking himself on the goddamn statue with fervour. More, fuck _more,_ he sought out the burn, extracting cries as the warmed bronze crown poked at his prostate, moaning like a starving man when he sank his teeth into a juicy steak cooked to perfection. A melody of weak and needy 'Ah, ah, ah!' muffled by the mask, stifling his short pants.

"That's better." Mutunus grinned. "In honour of the acceptance of gay marriage, I have chosen my partner, and accept this man as mine. Leave the other sacrifices to be collected and slain"

The sacrifices shrieked in their anguish, lives short lived, but Dean didn't care about that. All he cared about was sating the fire in his belly. He wanted to fuck the 42 virgins who ran the joint, he wanted to fuck a dude, he wanted to be fucked by a dude, all the more spearing himself on the statue repeatedly, thoughts of Sam and resistance evaporating.

Mutunus looped his arms around Dean, there was another flash of fire, which surprisingly didn't hurt him, and they were in a low ceilinged contemporary Roman temple. More dicks were displayed at regular intervals in the alcoves, a purple carpet ran through the temple to an alter at the foot of a lavish, rich, dark purple bed, which had more dildos crowning the posts. Dean moaned in protest at the sudden absence of bronze dick between his thighs, left behind at The 42 Virgins. The owner of the arms cooed and shushed him, slipping a knee between his legs for Dean to softly grind against. It wasn't enough, it would never be enough, Dean wanted to be fucked and he needed it right the fuck now.

He was lead to the alter, where there was a small granuled looked cake sitting on it. Next to the alter were marble statues of important looking people, and a ring of ten less important looking statues, observing the alter.

"I hope you'll excuse my absence of actual witnesses, a Flamen Dialis and Pontifex Maximus. the Roman tradition isn't exactly booming as of late." Mutunus chucked. He rested his chin on Dean's neck on top of the cool metal of the white collar, nuzzling him as he unstrapped Dean's mask, which fell forgotten onto the carpet with a dull _thunk_.

Dean stretched his freed jaw and whined needily, the guy’s deep voice of promise was seriously teasing him, he was sure of it. Just let him go back to that nice slide of bronze five minutes ago. Fucking aphrodisiac.

Mutunus chuckled, and dipped his think long forefinger into Dean's prepared hole. Dean gasped at the sensation, so innocent, and not enough after violently riding the 10 inch bronze prick. He rocked back onto the digit.

"Not yet pet" the amused voice approving.

"First the ceremony."

Dean had no idea what ceremony Mutunus was referring to and he couldn't care less. The sooner it was over the sooner he could get nailed by the guy, who was clearly interested if the dick poking against his thigh was anything to go by. Dean noticed at that moment that since teleporting or whatever into the temple Mutunus had shed all his effects, leaving him naked. Dean didn't mind so much now.

Dean was sat at the alter across from Mutunus, who carefully cut the granuled cake in front of them. Seriously? He wasn't fucking Dean because he was hungry? What the hell? Dean was horny as hell and this fucker wanted to stop for a quick picnic? Couldn't they just skip right to the part where he shoved his dick up Dean's ass?

He was about to say as much when Mutunus shoved a bite sized cut of the cake between his teeth. It was choke or chew and Dean petulantly chewed, glaring his disapproval of Mutunus' choice of foreplay. The fucker actually laughed at Dean, who tried to gesture at his cuffed hands so that he would be freed, if only to shove the rest of the cake into his mouth so they could get this part over and done with and get to the fucking. But Mutunus shook his head and Dean growled in frustration, shoving his cuffed hands around his dick, trying to get himself off if Mutunus wouldn't. Mutunus frowned and gripped Dean's wrists, pulling them from his crotch and Dean hissed in annoyance.

"What the fuck-mf!" More cake. It seemed Mutunus was determined to blue ball him with this fucking picnic.

"Hush pet and eat your spelt cake."

Luckily, the cake was small and it was only three more decent sized bites before it was eaten. The cake was by no means bad, it was just in the way of Dean getting a dick up his ass and now he was impatient.

"Okay dude you've teased long enough, fucking finish what you started when you mojo'd me and fuck- ME!'

The last part was not screamed, Dean would deny it to his dying day. Mutunus swept Dean from his feet like a fucking girl on her wedding day and took two long strides before letting him fall onto the plush pillows with an "Oomf!" Dean's cuffs were quickly secured to the headboard, his back to the covers, propped up on pillows. The chain connecting his leg cuffs was snapped in two in Mutunus' frenzy to spread Dean's legs, bent so that Dean could push his ankles into the small of Mutunus' back, pulling him closer and exposing the inflamed hole. Mutunus quickly devoured Dean's mouth, slipping his tongue in easily and licking at Dean's impatient one, licking the roof of his mouth, skimming over teeth, tasting as deep as he could go, gagging Dean before he pulled back to get back to business.

Dean's breathing quickened. He swallowed nervously as Mutunus spat directly into Dean's hole, the swallow catching his Adam's apple on the edge of the collar. Mutunus palmed his cock, coating it liberally with lube he magicked out of fucking nowhere.

His fingers spread Dean's sphincter again, the stretch from the bronze had slightly tightened again after spending so much time eating a fucking spelt cake. This is why they should have fucked first eaten later Dean wanted to bite out, but his breath hitched when testing his looseness, Mutunus slipped two fingers easily into the enveloping channel, scissoring.

Notenoughnotenough. Not after being speared, the aphrodisiac induced urges returned with renewed vigour at the stimulation, Mutunus pulled out one of his fingers and Dean was about to whine in protest when the remaining finger crooked at- oooooh that felt good. Mutunus pressed against his prostate, watching Dean squirm desperately at the stimulation.

"Fuuuuck"

Eager to appease his new partner, Mutunus pulled out his remaining finger, lined up, guiding his dick to Dean’s hole, and shoved in, sheathing him on the first thrust.

Dean opened his mouth, soundless. His head thrown back as much as he could on the covers and he shivered as Mutunus groaned in satisfaction. Recovering from the initial wave of pleasure, Mutunus started to piston into Dean at a semi-regular pace. He knew what he was doing to make Dean feel good. After all he picked up lessons from his sister Pertunda, goddess of sexual love and sexual pleasure, and he proceeded to give Dean the ride of his life with his sister's blessing.

Mutunus held Dean's hips in a bruising grip, pulling him to meet his thrusts. Dean was in no position to object and helped him, rocking himself back into Mutunus. Mutunus paused after one particularly deep thrust, revelling in the sensation of his balls meeting the globes of Dean's ass. He pawed at Dean's lower abdomen, feeling for the imprint of his cock, tracing it in a revered awe. Dean moaned at the alien feeling of fingers pressing on his skin, and the responding press of on a foreign object buried in his guts from this pressure. He clenched on Mutunus cock, encouraging him to resume fucking him senseless. Mutunus instead pulled out, lining himself up at a new angle before thrusting violently, brushing over Dean's prostate more easily, savouring the brief press of Dean's sweat slicked and pre-come leaking cock rubbing against their bellies. Exploding stars of ecstasy blacked Dean's vision, panting like a bitch in heat as the wet slapping of skin and choked off sound of pleasure bounced off the sacred halls dedicated to Mutunus.

Dean gripped the headboard with his cuffed hands, curling his toes, trying to physically hang onto reality each time his mind was obliterated by the press of a cock against his prostate, revelling in the sliding burn of thee cock plunging itself in him over and over again. Mutunus was no small customer, in fact Dean would say the masterpiece he was sampling at The 42 Virgins was moulded after Mutunus himself. While the bronze was hard and unforgiving, it was also unresponsive. Dean's clenching elicited groans from Mutunus like a candy dispenser, and each groan was sweet as caramel. The halt of assault of pleasure was hard to notice after the mind numbing constant of it, but Dean came to the realisation that Mutunus had stopped moving.

"Move you fucker." He grunted out of gritted teeth, clenching in earnest trying to get Mutunus to move again.

"Tell me your name." the god replied.

"For the love of- move dammit!" Dean tried to rock back onto Mutunus, but Mutunus moved with him, leaving the cock wedged still.

"Fu ... ck" Dean gasped in exasperation, desperate to get some sort friction going, wishing he could reach down to grab his dick, pulling at the cuffs. They remained secure at the headboard. Mutunus leaned in close, careful to keep his cock in place as he did so, and nibbled at Dean's ear, worrying it with his lips and teeth.

"Tell me your name" He repeated, his mouth trailing a cool line of saliva from Dean's ear, mouthing down his neck, over his collar which was slick with Dean's sweat, under his jaw, lifting the collar slightly, and sucking at Dean's Adams apple, prompting Dean throw back his head again.

"D-Dean" Dean managed to gasp out. And just like that Mutunus resumed his relentless pace, thrusting faster than before and more sloppily as he focused his attention on kissing Dean and jacking Dean off.

Dean came with a shout of "Oh God!" as his red flared cock shot into Mutunus' hand, spraying his belly with sticky come. He reflexively clenched violently around Mutunus, who shouted Dean's name with a hint of pride and worship. Heat flooded Dean's innards as Mutunu’s load was emptied, and there was a dirty wet popping sound as Mutunus disengaged. The skin of his hole was clinging at Mutunus' cock, reluctant to let it go, leaving the reddened hole twitching in emptiness. Dean sank boneless into the bed, exhausted. The aphrodisiac spell had worn off, and Dean couldn't be damned to feel anything but sated pleasure at what he had just done. Sleepiness blurred the edges of his vision, as Mutunus carefully uncuffed his hands from the headboard and removed the broken ones from his feet. He fingered the collar a little bit before removing that as well. Mutunus was large enough to envelop Dean with his warm body, arm over Dean's chest pulling him back to chest, feeling the steady rhythmic heartbeat of the pagan god behind him. Dean drifted off, relaxed and peaceful.

Mutunus collected his sacrifices later that night. Relishing in the bloodied human steaks, a small blood stained bag of 'prizes' at his feet, a bowl collecting the dribbled blood from his chin for the priests back at The 42 Virgins to use. Dean was reminded of the unearthly nature of Mutunus Tutunus, and the savage nature of pagan gods. They couldn't be trusted. After all, if this ritual was carried out annually, where were Mutunus' other wives and husbands? What happened to then? Did they share the same fate as the rejected sacrifices, their fates extended so long as they pleased the god? Maybe it was time Dean breached the subject of divorce before Mutunus brought it up first for the sake of continued living.

Now that his mind wasn't clouded with unrivalled need due the aphrodisiac, he thought about how to deal with Mutunus and stop him killing people for good. He was obviously a pagan god, and of 'phallic marriages' at that. And if Dean knew his Latin, (and he knew it quite well thank you very much) and he had especially paid attention when Bobby was getting them to decipher the 'Boy's Satanist Handbook, Latin Edition' wherein Bobby had taught them the Latin swear words like 'penis,' and 'fuck' as well as their slang counterparts to decipher half the genital herpes and permanent erectile dysfunction spells in that handy dandy notebook. He was aware that Mutunus' name was basically "Penis McPenis" in Pompeian slang, and therefore Mutunus was a Roman god. If Mutunus would abide by Roman rites and marriage rituals, all he'd have to do was say demand for a divorce in from of 7 witnesses. Easy enough considering to Mutunus a gathering of 10 statues was good enough to get hitched. Maybe he could just announce his intentions in front of those same statues without getting killed in the process. And then there was Sammy. Where was the little fucker? He had left Dean to get kidnapped and unintentionally hitched in some perversion of a Bachelor gameshow!

Turns out one of the phalluses in the alcoves had a knife embedded in it as some sort of kinky toy. He speared Mutunus on the alter the next day using his own sick collection of sex toys, and announced to the unmoving statues and Mutunus' fading eyes that they were _so_ divorced. The room dissolved as Mutunus gurgled and spasmed around the dick-knife protruding from his jaw.

Dean escaped relatively unscathed, the dull after burn in his ass aside, and then returned to The 42 Virgins with Bobby and found Sam in the dungeon (really? Those motherfuckers had a dungeon on top of everything else?!) and found Sam slumped in a bed muttering about deflowering 42 virgins. So it turned out, while Dean was getting hitched to a pagan god his brother was assisting the dump as a sperm donator fucking 42 virgins all night because of his dastardly good looks.

God fucking damn it.

=END=


End file.
